


Dream a Little Dream

by penandfink



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penandfink/pseuds/penandfink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catelyn's second wedding night is not as her first, and yet ... AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream a Little Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Yet Another Kink Meme (round 4) at [robellion](http://robellion.livejournal.com), prompt: remarriage. I weirdly started crackshipping Cat/Yohn in AFFC, when Sansa remembers how he could hammer men into the ground, and how he talked quietly at table with her mother. And the Royces are one of the families most annoyed at Lysa for not joining the war on Robb's side, so the pretext is there. Of course by AFFC Cat is ... not quite herself, but this why we have AU. Upon re-read, I caught some continuity glitches (was Tywin even at Harrenhal at this point?), and feel it could flow better, but I've left it as is barring one comma mistake.

It was many years since she had been a bride. Then, they had jested and hooted and ripped her fine gown in their haste to get her bedded, while their young lord awaited her in a low tower room of her father's castle. Now, all concerned were content with a few vows, a few plates of food, and a few cups of wine to send everyone quietly along to their sleep. The morrow would bring all the worries of war, and this time there was not even a fortnight to spare for conjugal niceties.

It did not matter. Yohn Royce was no stripling, his first wife had long provided him with heirs, and she knew he would not cause trouble to her sons, the sons of Eddard Stark, who had once been the ward of Jon Arryn. No child was needed of this alliance, and in fact, Catelyn was surprised that Lord Yohn had proposed it at all. With the Freys lost, her son was not like to refuse his support, nor the support of any of the Vale lords ready to follow him. But she could see the sense in it. Such a flagrant break with Lysa left him vulnerable, and the insurance afforded by a marriage to the king's mother was the best they had to offer.

She was a widow this time, and so this time they had asked her what she had wanted, the very night they'd made plans to march south on Tywin Lannister himself. As if there was any more choice in it now.

Her lord husband did not attempt to pretend the situation was other than it was, and for that she was grateful. She did not have the strength to feign merriment or distraction, and Yohn knew her well enough to know it would be a lie. When he escorted her up the stairs to her -- their -- chamber, they spoke quite plainly of his plans. While Robb marched, the Vale men were to make for Harrenhal with all haste, avoiding the mountains entirely.

"I could have Vyman send a raven to Runestone this very night," she suggested, enjoying the feeling of sinking into the feather bed for a moment before she began at her laces. "It is no easy distance to Harrenhal."

"In truth, they have been marching all this while as I rode ahead to Riverrun," Lord Yohn explained as he cast an approving look around the tower room. "Quietly, to be sure, but all the same, it should not be long before they are by your son's side."

She was confused. "But what would they have done if I had refused your offer?"

"My lady, you could not afford to refuse my offer." His smile was small, but knowing, and she had to smile too. She could not remember smiling, not since Ned had last held her. She watched her husband peel off his wedding silks, her own hands still fumbling at her bodice.

"My son's kingdom hangs by a thread. You do a dangerous thing joining him now."

"Dangerous, perhaps, but your sister would have us sit behind her skirts like frightened children. I am no coward, and I do not forget who your husband was. Lord Jon would turn in his grave if he could see."

It was brave of him, undoubtedly, but she wondered if it was wise. "You would risk the lives of your men for the memory of the dead?"

Yohn Royce grew solemn. "Honor does not give way to even death, my lady."

Her eyes lingered on the runes embroidered on his cloak, the runes of the First Men, and the words of his house now came to her. _We remember_. They were her words too now. "Yes. You honorable men always speak so, do you not."

He had not missed it, that tone that had crept into her voice, the sorrow that she had vowed to forgo today. With but a few slow strides he crossed the room and took her hands in his. "Lady Catelyn, believe me, I have no wish to replace your husband in your heart. I admired him too much. I admire _you_ too much. You know that we need not do anything tonight if you do not wish it. No one waits outside the door, and I am an old man at any rate."

They were kind, his words. He had always spoken courteously to her, those nights she and Ned had hosted him at Winterfell. "You lie, but you lie better than my last husband." Yohn's eldest son was of an age with Edmure, but the lord of Runestone wore his years well for all that. He had a comely face in a hard, craggy way, and up close, she could see that he was still of good health, fit, likely as formidable a fighter as many men half his years. "At least let me help you." She rose and clutched the ends of his undershirt with her maimed hands.

"It makes you wish we had had a proper bedding after all, hm?"

She laughed. "I think that particular ceremony would lose its charm if we did not leave it to the pages of youth." She was unsure she had made disrobing any easier for him, but he did not chide her. She might even guess that he found her helplessness endearing, men being as they were. He closed the space between them, and put a hand to her cheek.

"You are still beautiful, my lady."

Catelyn closed her eyes and stood perfectly still, waiting to be kissed. His mouth was insistent, though not unkind, and her lips yielded to his more easily than she would have thought. When his hands slipped about her waist, she clutched at his back and pressed close to him. She had not thought to ever hold another man this way, not when Ned was alive and not since he had died. But she had not died with him, and she was so tired, so tired of feeling tired.

When they broke off, her husband held her face close to his, and she did not open her eyes. "Do you still think of your lady wife?"

She felt him nod. "She has been gone for years, and yet some nights, it is those years since her death that are gone, and I am back in her arms." It was always the nights that were the hardest. _Especially when you dream._

"Pretend I am her," Catelyn told him, not intending to say any more that night. He asked no questions.

Yohn undressed her more deftly than she could have managed herself -- first her grey gown, then her linen shift, and after everything else, her hair. His strong arms lifted her off the ground and set her on the bed, the cool of the sheets jolting to her skin. She pulled him down on top of her and lost herself in another kiss, this time pushing back as fiercely as he did. Without thought she reached down to stroke him, her movements sure while her mind was anything but. His mouth followed the line of her jaw down to the base of her throat, and when he stalled, she guided him down to her breast, moaned in the back of her throat as he suckled. She wanted to cry and laugh at once, she wanted Ned to tell her it was alright.

 _Ned would have wanted this,_ she thought desperately, willing herself to believe it. _He always liked me this way._

When her lord husband slipped his manhood inside her, she felt herself reawakening. She steadied herself against the rhythm of his thrusting and rocked against the force of his hands on her hips, bending, arching, sighing, remembering. As her climax approached, she slid her legs high up onto his back and let the surges of pleasure wash over her, the hardest one taking her by surprise. It had been so long. Against her own will, she said another word that night, a name, and when it was over she could not remember whose.

They did not hold each other, but they talked together long into the night, of their dead sons, of the battles ahead, of her sister Lysa and his cousin Nestor, of power and treason and uncertainty, and just before they fell asleep, of the loves they had both lost. It was a strange way for a man and wife to end their wedding day, but then, she had long slept with ghosts in her bed.

Catelyn wondered if she would have another ghost to remember soon.

**Author's Note:**

> [[ also @ Livejournal ]](http://penandfink.livejournal.com/1656.html)


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